


Break Me in Half

by ARollingStone, HarveyDangerfield



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27603635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARollingStone/pseuds/ARollingStone, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield
Summary: Elliot has been pining after Luther for a while, and with his old friend Nitrous Oxide on his side, he finally feels brave enough to actually act on it
Relationships: Elliott Gussman/Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Break Me in Half

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't love elliot you're not welcome in our house

It had started out simple. Elliot had just offered Luther some nitrous when he came in looking so miserable that he was bound to make Elliot start crying. He'd just wanted to cheer the big man up, he'd seen so much of him through the window of his apartment, coming back to that alleyway every now and then in search of some girl named Allison, big and sensitive as anything. 

Maybe Elliot had been out of line, to think of himself as close to this family just because he'd watched them all fall out of the sky beside his home. Maybe it was just because his own life had been so absolutely _boring_ for so many years, selling televisions in his dad's shop, years after failing in a marriage he'd never been truly happy in. And maybe it's wishful thinking, but he'd like to believe they feel at least a little bit of kinship with him, too. 

It's not like that nitrous was going to use, anyway. Elliot almost never used it by himself unless something really awful happened, which was rare in the life of a tv salesman. He usually saved it for the anniversary of the day he found his wife in bed with his best friend just to make it through the night without tears. But Luther seemed like he needed it.

And now sitting side by side with him in twin dentist chairs, giggling about anything and everything, he's pretty sure he made the right choice. His chest clenches up every time he sees Luther grin and laugh, joyful and light. It's a far cry from the sorrowful mope he'd watched in the alley months ago.

Luther, for his part, isn't thinking about much of anything apart from the next hit of nitrous. Occasionally, a stray thought manages to creep in, but he hits the gas again and it all floats away on a cloud of laughter that makes his heartache feel lighter than when he'd walked in. He's not aware of the exact details of Elliot's pining, but sometimes when he looks over at him, he can see a kind of mirth glittering behind his eyes that's usually reserved for people with closer connections, but Luther doesn't question it too much. 

He can't right now. If he did, it'd probably just hurt him more. 

A minute or two after taking his next hit, and laughing uproariously with Elliot over a very stupid joke that definitely was not as funny as they imagined, Luther goes quiet and the smaller fellow gets worried that the nitrous isn't working anymore. But then Luther turns a bit in the dentist chair, which creaks under the strain of containing all of him, and he smiles fondly down at him.

"Thanks, Elliot," he says, still a bit drunkenly. "I really... _really_ needed this." 

Elliot feels his chest clench again when Luther turns that dopey smile towards him, and he gives an airy giggle that has nothing to do with the nitrous, which he hasn't taken a puff of in several minutes. He can't bear to take it away from Luther, who seems to need it much more than him. 

"No problem," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm glad it helped... nothing worse than girl problems. I wish I'd had someone to laugh with when my wife left me. You know-- I wasn't even mad at her when she did? I mean I wasn't _happy_ , but-- it was actually my best friend who I was upset with. His name was Rory, we'd been friends since high school, and I--"

He coughs slightly, old feelings he hasn't let himself ruminate on in years coming up the back of his throat like bile. He knows Luther is a man out of time, a man of a completely different world than the one he's lived in his whole life, so he finds himself unafraid when he admits, "I was in love with him. I don't think I was ever even in love with my wife, I just married her because she didn't wanna leave Dallas, and Rory still lived here, so I wouldn't have to leave either..." he sighs and takes the mask back from Luther to take a nice long inhale and smother the pain.

"Oh, Elliot," Luther's face pinches in pain while he lets it sink in. It's a complex issue, even in 2019 where he'd come from, but here in the 60's, even more so. The only measuring stick he has for such things is Klaus, and even though all of his siblings had pretty much accepted Klaus for who he is, that doesn't mean things were never hard for him. 

"Did she find out?" Asking this, Luther turns in his chair a bit more to face Elliot fully. It brings his chest into relief under the light shining on them, and Elliot can see the way his muscles all flex to hold him there. He really is _big_. "What about Rory? Did _he_ find out? Are you okay? Are you safe?" 

"No, neither of them knew," Elliot says after a short giggling fit, his eyes drifting shamelessly down to stare at Luther's chest when they're drawn there by his shift in posture. "I think they both just thought I was a loser. I'm surprised it took them as long as it did to hook up, he was a handsome guy. Taller than me, strong, had these muscles out to here--" he puffs his cheeks out with a breath, gesturing with one of his arms in a weak flex. "Kind of like you but... not nearly as _big_ as you."

Luther laughs breathlessly, the fit taking him a minute to recover from. The implication that someone could even be as big as him really tickles his ribs, but that laughter eventually dies off and he shakes his head, saying in a hoarse voice, "He couldn't be as big as me if he tried." 

And he starts laughing again. 

Elliot laughs breathlessly too for a few moments, before a thought strikes him and he lays his head dizzily back against the head rest of his own chair. He feels warm all over, light-headed and comfortable, the old pain of his forgotten half-romance with a man who never even knew about his true feelings pushed down under the weight of the _monolith_ of a man laying beside him. 

Without thinking, Elliot asks, "Can I see?"

"See what?" Luther asks dumbly, his eyes darting all over Elliot's face as he tries to figure out this puzzle. When he catches Elliot's eyes drifting to his chest, it's like a lightning bolt zips through his body, and his heart starts to race. He grabs the nitrous mask from Elliot and takes a hit, which immediately eases the anxiety that had crept back--sure he's feeling a bit loose, but the concept of being _seen_ is still a new one to Luther. He's still getting comfortable with the idea that anyone could or would ever find him anything but repulsive.

"You wanna see me?" He finally asks, his hands go to the top button of his plaid shirt, and when he frees the first couple, Elliot is treated to the sight of a bit of dark chest hair peeking out from under a white tank top. 

"Yeah, I wanna see," Elliot leans up on his elbow in his own chair. His head fuzzy and addled with nitrous, he reaches out to help Luther with his buttons, the bigger man's hands all clumsy and soft with indulgence. At least Elliot has a little more experience using the gas to cope, so he can use his own fingers properly as he pops a few of Luther's buttons. His hands are shaking a little bit, but not because of the drugs.

He pushes at Luther's collar when his flannel spreads around him, and though it takes some wiggling for Luther to get out of the sleeves, once that layer falls away, Elliot takes in the sight of him. His discolored leathery skin, the coarse black hair of an animal-- Elliot is _dumbstruck_ by the sight of him, and he runs a hand down Luther's arm just to feel him.

Stupidly, Luther blinks at Elliot, watching and feeling while his hand makes circuits over one arm. The feeling of his knobby fingers trailing through his fur makes Luther's head swim, which is only amplified by the nitrous hit he'd just taken.

"What do you think?" He swallows the knot in his throat, a part of him buried deep under laughing gas tells him he's about to be rejected. 

Instead of answering him, Elliot just grabs the bottom of Luther's tank top and tugs, pulling it up his stomach by a few inches, but it's stuck under his back, trapped between his bulk and the chair so Elliot just gives a desperate-sounding "Off?" his eyes flicking up from Luther's chest to his face.

His desperation makes Luther's chest ache, so he reaches down past his belt line while sitting up, and tugs the tank off, leaving his chest and belly exposes to Elliot. His chest flexes a little as the cold air hits them and causes the muscles to spasm, but it's more the show for Elliot. Luther slowly dips back in his seat and lies there under the light, which casts shadows where his muscles meet one another. 

Elliot sits up completely in his chair, and the light-headedness only increases. It's not from the gas this time, this is an entirely different sensation. The room feels like it's spinning around him when he reaches out to touch again, feeling across the rough planes of Luther's chest and stomach. He traces the places where his hide has formed deep cracks and grooves with his fingertips, his eyes hazy and unfocused in his exploration. He doesn't even seem to notice that he's flustering Luther as he spreads both hands over Luther's chest and slides them up to feel where his skin transitions back into soft, smooth human flesh at his throat.

Luther squeezes his eyes shut for several seconds, trying to clear his head of the cottony feeling that's settled heavy between his ears. When he reopens them, he sees Elliot craning across the small space between them, with both hands cupping his chest, and it makes Luther's belly go hot to see his small fingers splayed across the expanse. Everything about Elliot is _small_ and that makes him feel some type of way. It's a far cry from how he's often felt about his size, maybe it's the nitrous awakening his inhibitions, or maybe he just doesn't give a damn. 

"Elliot," he gruffs, his voice caught in his throat. 

The sound of his name startles him out of his reverie, and Elliot looks up at Luther's face, suddenly aware of how very _red_ the other man is. It all comes into focus then, how he's touching Luther in a prolonged and intimate manner, and Luther hasn't pushed him away. He actually seems to be pretty flustered by it, in the way someone might if they were actually interested, but shy. Oh, lord. 

Whatever leftover high the gas had given him lowers his fear enough for Elliot to sit properly in Luther's lap. There's not a fear in his head that Luther would push him away or say no, he doesn't even consider the idea of rejection as he swings a leg across the gap and plants himself down in Luther's lap, in frankly full view of the windows downstairs, and leans down to give him a hard kiss on the mouth.

An almost _pained_ grunt leaves Luther, and his hands come to settle on Elliot's hips. If that isn't acceptance, Elliot doesn't know what is. 

Luther's face is rough with stubble against Elliot's cleanshaven skin. Every inch of him is solid, sitting on top of him he feels like he could let himself drop down onto Luther and there'd be no chance of him falling. The hands on Luther's chest make him hungry for more, and so he eats at Elliot's mouth with ravenous intent, sighing and groaning with the exaltation of having someone accept him after the massive rejection of finding out that Allison had gotten married and moved on in spite of everything. He can't really blame her, but it still hurts. He needs to make the hurt stop. 

"I want you," Luther pants under his breath, pulling back to look up at Elliot. "I need to shut off for a little while, and I can tell you do too." 

Elliot just nods, fumbling for the buttons on his own shirt as he collides their mouths together again. His only other experience with a man came a couple years after his wife left him, cramped together in a public bathroom of a secret gay club that fronted as a law firm. It only lasted a few minutes, and he never saw the man again, but it gave him enough confidence to at least feel a _little bit_ like he knows what he's doing. 

He doesn't take his shirt off all the way, letting it hang open around his skinny torso. He's mostly ribs and tendons and pale skin with a few dark moles scattered here and there, with a very meager amount of chest and belly hair, a sharp contrast to Luther's thick, grey muscles. He feels both vulnerable and protected, like there's nothing in the world that could hurt him with Luther laying solidly under him. 

Opening Luther's belt with a frantic sort of hunger, he breaks the kiss to bury his face in the side of Luther's neck and inhales shamelessly. He smells musky and animal in a way that sends a shiver down Elliot's spine, and the texture of his hair against his cheek makes him shudder. He's never been so turned on in his life, not even in that dimly lit bathroom. This is _exhilarating_.

Luther works his hands into Elliot's belt and threatens to break it as he makes the buckle come free, but he manages not to ruin the thing, and parts the zipper so he can reach in and touch him. The gasp Elliot pours into his mouth only serves to embolden Luther, and with careful practice, he pulls Elliot's hardening cock out through the gap in his underwear and strokes him in one big, rough hand. The fur on his belly prickles against Elliot's sensitive skin, and Luther grabs him by the back of the neck, as if afraid he might pull away, and Luther takes another step into the unknown by letting his tongue slip into Elliot's mouth. 

Elliot can only pant through his nose when Luther takes charge, scruffing him like a kitten in order to claim another kiss. And he _does_ feels like a kitten compared to Luther, small and frail and so easily manipulated by his strong hands. He's fully hard faster than he thinks he's ever been in his life, and it's with shaking hands that he finally gets Luther's belt open. 

As soon as he's got Luther's cock in hand though, he pulls back with wide eyes to take in the size of the man. His stomach plunges hotly, his skin prickling with goose bumps as he takes a moment to just gauge the size of his cock with both hands. It's easily the biggest tool Elliot's ever laid eyes on, and it's with a reckless sort of hunger that he shimmies out of his clothes. His shoes hit the ground with a thud, and he shucks his slacks and boxers quickly until he's in naught but his sock garters and open shirt, like a pinup girl. It makes him feel sexier than he's ever felt. 

"You ever slept with a man before?" Elliot asks, his voice shaking a little bit, with both nerves and excitement.

Luther sits up in the dentist's chair, the way his stomach and chest flex with just that movement alone makes Elliot's heart flip against his ribs. Looking Elliot up and down, Luther licks the inner corner of his cheek, trying to gauge whether or not he should be truthful with him, but ultimately decides to be, after all the man's been nothing but honest with him. 

"I haven't had very many parnters," he says vaguely past the heaviness that settles in his throat, and gruffs, "But I'm a quick learner."

"That's okay," Elliot says quickly. "I haven't either. Just two."

He licks his palms and then wraps both of them around Luther's cock. His is lined up directly beside the other man's, but he finds himself surprisingly not self conscious. Maybe it's because of Luther's inhuman size and appearance, but the notion of comparing himself to the man laying prone beneath him in any way feels ridiculous, and so he doesn't. 

"Hang on," he climbs off of Luther's lap, holding his groin sheepishly in one hand as he pads across the apartment to his bedroom, re-emerging just a moment later with a tub of vaseline. He mounts Luther again like a draft horse and unscrews the cap. "This kind doesn't have any menthol in it, don't worry," he says, scooping out a modest amount and spreading it over Luther's cock, working it down over his shaft with both hands.

Luther's hips come up off the chair and he leans into Elliot's hands, just chasing the sudden slickness that coats his cock in gummy heat. He looks down at Elliot's fingers clasped around him and makes a sound like a wounded animal, "Both hands... I should have thought of that a long time ago." 

Nevermind that Luther's hands are as big as Elliot's face, so they probably wouldn't have the same effect as those delicate fingers tracing over every inch of him. God, his heart is racing in his ears, thumping in his chest so hard he feels like Elliot can probably hear it. His inhibitions have been lowered by the nitrous, which is still taking up its fair share of space in his head, so in spite of his perception of his warped body, he's finding the difference in size between he and Elliot to be erotic instead of grotesque. 

Elliot feels a giddy flutter in his chest as he watches Luther languish in absolute pleasure, and he starts measuring up Luther's cock in his hands curiously. It's big, he's guess at least nine inches but it's hard to know for sure. The last (and only) man Elliot ever slept with had been sizeable, but not _this_ big-- but Elliot had enjoyed the stretch so much that the few times he got enough courage to touch himself, he'd played around with whatever he could fit. He's confident he could handle Luther. 

"You too," he says, glancing down at Luther's big hands with a breathy, exhilarated giggle, and he grabs the vaseline from where it'd fallen between Luther's hip and the chair to drop it on his chest. "Use your fingers, I wanna try to take it."

Luther dips his fingers into the vaseline and comes back with a dollop, which he smears between them, and then he reaches around behind Elliot and feels for his hole. It doesn't take much to find it, and when he does Luther frowns in concentration while he measures out the best way to go about this, and finally he decides on massaging the outer rim of muscles, to work his finger against it. He's never fingered someone's ass before, so it's a new feeling to touch those muscles and feel them flex and open little by little as he tickles them. 

"Have you taken a guy before?" Luther grunts, trying to keep his voice even despite his heavy breathing making it gruff with pleasure. When Elliot's hands make another lap over his cock, he drops his head back down onto the dentist's chair and groans, digging his fingers into Elliot's ass. 

"Yes," Elliot's voice is breathless with desire, his forehead dropping against Luther's shoulder and his hands squeezing around his shaft. "Once. And I-- experiment sometimes--"

He can't get his voice to behave. The last time he'd been with a man, he had barely stuck his fingers in him long enough to get him wet. Actually getting teased like this is making his brain shut off entirely, words failing to make it from his mind to his tongue. He gives a particularly undignified whimper when Luther's big finger breaches him, his toes curling in his socks. His shirt slips off one shoulder, and he whines against Luther's neck, his hands squeezing in uneven, overwrought pulses over the bigger man's cock.

"Shit..." Luther growls, he tilts his head and lays his lips against Elliot's forehead, kissing him there without really thinking about it. He sounds like he needs comfort, but that doesn't stop Luther from driving his fingers in to the root and pulling them back out, all while laying kisses to Elliot's damp brow. He experiments between diving in and stretching him open with quick, scissoring motions that make Elliot nearly wail with pleasure. Really, truly he was not prepped to take even one of Luther's massive fingers, but now two of them are taking him apart, pressed up to the hairy knuckles, where Luther's fur and rough skin are tickling him. 

"God your hands feel so good, Elliot," Luther breathes quickly, his toes curling in his boots. 

Elliot is shaking like a leaf, even his breath is trembling as Luther fingers him open. Pleasure thrums up through his body like a drumbeat, his cock leaking against Luther's lower belly. His hands are sticky and wet when they come up to brace against Luther's shoulders, unable to get the leverage he wants braced on his elbows. His head hangs down from his shoulder, his bangs clinging to his brow as he rocks back to meet Luther's hand, his mouth open as he gasps and whimpers, trying his best to hold back his sounds so he doesn't alert all of his neighbors to the fact that he's getting fingerfucked by a sasquatch. 

"Oh lord have mercy--" he whines, his knees braced in the leather seat of the chair on either side of Luther's hips, shaking and unsteady with pleasure. He might have underestimated just how often he'd experimented, finding himself opening up in record time, his muscles hungrily sucking at Luther's fingers every time he tries to pull them back out.

Those fingers twist up into him like they're trying to drill a hole straight through Elliot's body, and at this point, he'd probably let Luther do just that. They corkscrew into him, and Luther stretches him on every downstroke, giving him a combination of sensation that makes his body feel like it's been filled with static electricity. His channel started out tight, but it's loosening by the second and Luther's mouth practically waters at the thought of how good it's going to feel to be inside of him. 

When Elliot finally looks like he's about to descend into a screaming fit and lose his mind, Luther's fingers leave him and his hole flexes at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Luther leans back a little bit in the chair and looks the smaller man in the face, the laughing gas has mostly worn off now, so his senses have returned, and he's aware of Elliot's fingers curled in the fur on his shoulders and the absolutely staggering size difference between the two of them. 

"You sure you want this, Elliot?" He gasps, panting with just the thought of it now. "I'm ready, if you are." 

Elliot just nods stupidly. He doesn't give Luther the luxury of enough time to talk himself out of it, he just twists at the waist to grab Luther by the cock and stands it upright. He misses the first time, his hands slippery and sticky, and hisses in a breath when Luther's cockhead catches his rim. On the second try, he manages to sink home, and without giving himself a notion to feel intimidated by the size, he rotates his hips down. 

There's a moment of resistance that has him tossing his head back with a grimace, but his body seems to know what to do as the last stitch of pressure unlatches, and his hips sink down in a rush. He _shouts_ when his ass makes contact with Luther's thighs, grabbing the arm rests of the chair, and there's a distinct outline of Luther's cock in his lower belly when he inhales raggedly and sucks it concave. 

He's _never_ been this full before. He feels like he's bursting with it, his rim sucking and flexing greedily around the base of Luther's cock, and he holds a hand to his stomach with a whine, playing with the outline with shaking fingers. "Holy... toledo..." he whispers, breathless and shaking.

Looking dumbly down at where he can see the outline in Elliot's belly, Luther fails to speak for a few moments, instead he just mouths wordlessly, trying to find something to say but his cock feels so thoroughly squeezed that it almost hurts. 

"Are you okay?" Is what he finally manages to croak, a startled laugh leaving him. 

"Yeah... yeah..." Elliot nods, his voice strained and breathy in his throat. "Just... need a second to... adjust."

As he sits there and just allows himself to languish in the feeling, he pays attention to every little twinge and sensation. The way Luther's cock throbs inside of him with his heartbeat, the way his own muscles slowly unspool to accommodate his size, growing used to the massive intrusion, the pressure that Luther's cock has formed inside of him, forcefully rearranging his insides to make room for itself... his own cock leaks over Luther's leathery stomach as he reaches out to take Luther by the shoulders again. 

Arching up onto his knees, he gasps softly when inch after inch slides past his rim, and then with a bit of pressure and gravity, he sinks back down again. Luther's cockhead tags his prostate as he passes it, wringing a soft cry out of Elliot. His shirt slips down to his elbows, hanging off of him prettily like wings as he takes Luther down to the root again, electricity shooting up his spine and spurring him to repeat the action, with a bit more confidence this time.

Luther widens his ankles on the dentists chair and crooks his knees slightly, edging his hips up to bump Elliot and when he does it makes him shiver. He's testing the waters by thrusting into him in shallow dips, trying to gauge how far he can go with Elliot without hurting him; looking down he can see his cock gliding against Elliot's belly, not the exact shape, just a shadow making his belly bulge every time Luther tags his prostate. He'd honestly never considered seeing it like that, Luther's just always had a vague awareness that sex with other people is probably off the table, he's just so Big--but Elliot's taking him like an old pro. It's almost intimidating. 

The slick feeling of Elliot hugging him with that tight channel makes Luther's eyes nearly cross. He's overcome with the feeling of it, craving it every time he pulls out and thrusts back in. Elliot's rim stretches with the motion, pulling taut and snapping back inside, and their pace gets set by Elliot bouncing in his lap, albeit slowly. To assert some kind of control over the situation, Luther grabs Elliot by the biceps and thrusts a little bit faster, filling him with his cock until it feels like Elliot can't take anymore, but he always does, each time their hips meet he feels himself loosen a little more. 

The chair is squeaking and groaning under them as Elliot rides him in earnest, his skin slapping muffled against Luther's jeans-clad thighs. Now that his muscles have fully adjusted to the feeling, soft and slick and open, they can really pick up the pace, and a series of soft _ah, ah, ah, ah's_ are fucked out of Elliot's throat every time Luther bottoms out inside him. 

He's lost in the pleasure, his head thrown back and eyes half-lidded and unfocused, hazy and shiny and unseeing. His mouth is hanging open, and his brows arched and furled. He's the picture of ecstasy, even the nitrous hadn't succeeded in making him feel this good. 

"Luther-- _Luther_ \--" he gasps, his voice hoarse and catching in his throat, his pleasure mounting quicker than he'd like. "Oh jesus-- oh criminy--"

Luther's head is thrown to the chair, his back arching off the chair to drive his hips upward, meeting Elliot's grinding hole, forgetting almost where he is, and what time period it is. Instead of thinking about the consequences, Luther's voice carries out in the apartment, low and gruff as color bleeds into his face and down his neck. They've only just started but it already feels like so much. 

"God-- _Elliot._ " He almost sounds distraught when he says his name, like he's had enough and he's going to buck him off like a bull, but instead he grabs the smaller man by the hips and pulls him down to meet his hips with force. The head of his cock rams against Elliot's prostate, battering it with each thrust like Luther was made to do it. It wrings him out, makes Elliot's muscles weak and gummy so he's only able to clutch to Luther's shoulders with waning strength, while Luther seems to sap his energy from him and channel it right back up into his body with his cock.

Elliot cums with barely a sound, too much practice keeping quiet ingrained into him to give more than a couple pitiful little squeaks. He curls in on himself, his chin tucking into his chest and his thighs trembling and squeezing around Luther's. All the strength leaves his body, but Luther is doing most of the work already at this point, dragging his hips down to meet his upward thrusts. The oversensitivity makes him weak, his channel flexing and clenching at the bigger man's cock. He wants more, and he can feel that Luther has more to give, but if he doesn't take some of the weight of his own body off of his shoulders, he's liable to fall right out of Luther's lap, boneless and sagging as he is. So he pats Luther on the chest to get him to slow down, and glances up with hazy eyes towards the frosted glass doors that partition his bedroom. 

"Bed," he says breathlessly. "Bed's more comfortable-- I want you to-- to have the room to really break me in half--" He knows Luther has super strength, but he doesn't even consider the fact that the man would hurt him.

Luther urges Elliot forward, and once the man is small and curled in against his chest, Luther pulls out of him and gets to his feet. Elliot is easily gathered up into his arms and carried into his bedroom, where Luther lays him delicately down on the bed, then crawls over top of him. He spreads Elliot's thighs and takes the sight of him in for just a second, because he doesn't want to waste any time, then leaning out over him again, braced on one tree trunk of an arm, he slides his cock back in with a slick sound.

"Shit!" Luther growls, tossing his head back, both arms are propping him up on either side of Elliot, his body bearing down on him, heavy as you please. The bed bounces against the wall, battering out the rhythm of their fucking when Luther picks up speed again, with Elliot's squeaky, strangeled cries joining Luther's growls of absolute, animal ecstasy. It feels like the bed is going to break under them, and honestly Elliot too feels like Luther is about to put him through the floor. 

It's indescribable, being entered a second time. Elliot had thought it couldn't get better than the first, but having his tired and almost numb muscles shocked back to life with the electrifying friction of Luther's cock is almost too much. He claps one knobby hand over his mouth to keep from shouting, his legs folding up at the knee to squeeze on either side of Luther's hips, and he's completely knocked for a loop over the pure _strength_ behind Luther's thrusts now. 

His head is tipped back into the pillows, his body trembling and weak. He's not hard, spent too recently to be, but it doesn't matter because the pleasure flooding his system regardless nearly has him blacking out every time Luther's hips snap against his and fill him up. He can feel his belly bulging with every thrust without even having to look down, but he does anyway, sucking his muscles in just to make the outline even more dramatic when Luther bottoms out inside him. The sight makes his cock twitch, and he whimpers behind his hand as his head drops back down flat, and his legs snap and curl around his hips.

There's a coil of electric heat that's twisting tighter and tighter in Luther's belly with every deep penetration. He's pulling almost all the way out each time now, and driving back in with enough force to make Elliot's bones feel like they're about to shatter apart. Dropping down onto his elbows, Luther's heavy, leathery chest and belly squish Elliot down against the bed, and his long thrusts turn to shorter, deeper ones as he draws closer and closer to his release. Almost laying entirely on top of Elliot, the bed is creaking and groaning under the weight of him bearing down in the middle, and likewise Elliot is moaning in his ear; and all it takes a combination of that, and the divine grip of Elliot's hole for Luther to finally cum, and when he does he loses control of his body and comes down on top of Elliot, spilling into him with a strangled growl low in his chest. 

Elliot had no idea that he could cum without even being hard, but the feeling rocking through him as Luther just lays his weight on top of him can only be exactly that. He sobs, muffled against Luther's shoulder as a second, even more powerful prostate orgasm rips through his body like a knife. He bites Luther's hide to keep himself from wailing, on the verge of passing out from the intensity of his pleasure as the huge man goes still on top of him. 

For a few seconds all they can do is lie there, panting and trembling through the aftershocks, until Luther finally rolls off of Elliot to flop on his back beside him. Elliot is staring dumbly up at the ceiling, his muscles twitching every now and then. And then, just like how this whole thing began, he starts to giggle. Luther looks over at him, and watches him laugh for a moment before he starts to laugh too. He laughs right along with Elliot, even though he doesn't really know what they're laughing about. It just feels good to let loose after all of that, and everything he's been through today, and every day leading up to today.

"Oh my God Elliot, I can't believe we just did that," he finally says, grinning like a schoolboy, and he's still laughing. 

"I can't either." Elliot rolls up onto his side to look at Luther, sweaty and overstimulated and exhausted as he is, his face red and his hair falling in his eyes-- but he can say without a doubt that this is the happiest he's been in a long time. "But you seem like you really needed that, and I'm nothing if not a giver."

Luther just smiles and laughs again. And since there are no pressing matters to attend to, he wraps his arms around Elliot and rolls over onto his side to hold him, at least for a little while. It doesn't have to mean much past what it is, but he's still glad they shared this moment. 


End file.
